


The Memories

by StarLight13 (Pd13)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Dies, M/M, Magnus Bane Loves Alec Lightwood, Malec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pd13/pseuds/StarLight13
Summary: Even after a century, Magnus misses him.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	The Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Finished binge-watching the whole series. Their journey of love still as beautiful as ever. So, all the emotions accumulated is thrown in here. 
> 
> Let me know how you feel about it!

Magnus perused the menu from the holo-screen in front of him, deciding whether to go with the duck or try something new from the specialty section. The screen descended into their table and the panel slid shut after he swiped his selection. He could see the top of the Prague Castle from plasma glass window, the night view still as beautiful as it had been all those decades ago on their 10th Anniversary.

The world had progressed a lot in terms of development, with bots, virtual-reality and nano-tech dominating both the mundane and shadow world. Lives moved faster and easier now, seamlessly integrated with technology. From medicine to travel to communication, humans had improved many spheres of their requirements. But Magnus missed the real-world interactions and the personal connections. The lack of human touch was jarring at-times, especially to an immortal who had spent decades building rapports with many bartenders, owners, waiters and even security personnels. He remembered the pub dates at the Hunter's Moon, playing pool and flirting over cosmopolitans. Instead of waiters and servers, now tablets and serve-bots were predominant in majority of the eating establishments.

“Is something bothering you, Mag?” The soft enquiry broke into his thoughts and made him glance at his dinner companion.

Zaria looked concerned; her eyes locked on his fingers playing with the ring on his left hand. While Magnus wore three gem-studded rings and two shiny bracelets on his right hand, the left seemed barren with the presence of a single, silver, wide-band ring. He'd gifted the Lightwood family ring to Max and wore Alec's ring, worth more than all his precious jewels combined, around his finger. Sighing, he shook his head and placed his hand in his lap.

She pursed her lips, the ochre lights highlighting her honey-gold eyes. Weeks ago, Magnus had met this wondering soul in small, antique gift-store near the Market Square. She had saved a young boy from becoming a Vampire’s next meal. He’d been impressed with her spirited defence by wielding a thin, antique, pedestal wooden plant stand. After portalling the attacker away, he’d approached her to thank her, assuming her to be a Were-wolf. On discovering that she was a mundane with Sight, they’d got talking after he had introduced himself. Since then the two friends had met a handful of times; Zaria was fascinated to discover the history of the beautiful city through the Warlock’s perspective.

“Was it someone special? The one who gave you the ring?” She searched his gaze. The Warlock fascinated her, his witty charm, his funny anecdotes and his adventurous life. But beneath the glitter and fabulous style, she’d glimpsed an ancient grief, perhaps a heartbreak. She had wondered about his life, fated to live forever while everyone else died and left him. They never spoke about their personal lives, instead discussing their interests and travels. And in a few weeks, she would travel to the next place on her bucket list.

“Yes, very special,” Magnus replied, before changing the topic. “Speaking of specials, you never mentioned….”

As the meal progressed and the two friends spoke of a new digi-art exhibition, his mind kept flashing back to the past.

To the rich laugh that spilled from the heart, the wide smile that made blue eyes shine, the calloused hands that deftly plucked his wine glasses when Magnus had had too much to drink, the raised eyebrow of skeptical surprise, blue eyes rolled in exasperation at the Parabatai’s ridiculous plans. The cosy dates, the heated kisses, the quiet apologies, the bone-crushing hugs. By the time deserts were served, Magnus desperately wanted to be alone with the onslaught of memories that wanted to break free from the wall he’d built three decades ago.

Magnus couldn’t recall what he said or answered the entire evening, but it must’ve been sufficient if the small smile and hug she bestowed upon him before parting were any indication. He had been lost in the memories of his Shadowhunter, the one who had captured his heart the day he’d come knocking at the door of the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

 **Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane** , his lover, his husband and father to their blueberry.

The all-consuming grief that had enveloped him on that wretched day almost a century ago, had shimmered down to a dull throb in his heart whenever he recalled his Alexander. He’d thought that the memories would fade with time; the jagged edges of his wounded heart, from the pain of losing Alexander would heal. But his archer still stood out like the pole star in his mind, sharper and brighter than the rest. The wooden chest that his love had fretted over, questioning whether he would just be a remnant of Magnus’s colourful past, remained well preserved at his Paris apartment. Magnus had riffled through it a few times over the years. Not a single item of his husband, including any broken arrow-head, could be found among its contents.

Magnus would never need a token to remember the wonderful man who had dared to join his name with a Downworlder, who had vowed to ‘be a loving husband’ to a Warlock, who had cradled the jaded, vulnerable heart of the mysterious Magnus Bane.

After finishing the vid-call with Max, Magnus lay down in his bed. He wished Alexander had been alive, if only to see their blueberry thrive as the High Warlock of Alicante. There was not a day that he didn’t wish for his husband. As far as life went, Magnus enjoyed his. Parties, clients, dates, work-orders, mis-adventures with fellow Downworlders and some surprise visits to his son. But he missed sharing it with his husband, the eye-contacts across the room, the exchanged glances that spoke volumes, the small gestures, the surprise vacations and fights that led to spectacular make-up sex.

Some days, Magnus could almost feel as though Alexander was lying next to him, his face slack in sleep, peaceful and innocent. His unique citrus-vanilla smell that would emerge from beneath the smoke and ichor scent after a shower. The warmth of his body as he rolled over in his sleep and grabbed Magnus around the waist. The grumpy face as he was awoken in the morning, before he leaned over for a good-morning kiss. His pride whenever Magnus performed a difficult feat of magic.

Sometimes, on very bad days, Magnus wondered if his husband would still be alive if he had access to today’s medicine. Or maybe if he had made Alexander leave the Shadow world. Or if he had been successful in finding a way to make him immortal. Magnus had known that his time with Alexander was limited, but he’d forgotten that time flew by quicker when we were with our loved ones. Alexander had been snatched away before he had time to prepare himself for any such possibility. After so long, he knew that he would have never been ready for it.

Magnus Lightwood-Bane flirted, partied and had sex. Really good sex, if you asked him. He lived his life the way he knew his Alexander would have wished that he would, had the Shadowhunter been given the time for good-byes.

_But he never fell in love. He never got married. And he never, ever forgot about his Alexander._

**Author's Note:**

> How and why Alec died isn't the focus here. Just that he has and Magnus misses him so terribly.


End file.
